


What If?

by Skyepilot



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Role Reversal, Angst, Boxing & Fisticuffs, Coulson's glasses, Daydreaming, Established Relationship, F/M, First Kiss, Flirting, Food, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Friendship/Love, Gyms, Kissing, Resolved Sexual Tension, Sex, Sexual Content, Sparring, Teasing, The Framework, Touching, Trust, Unreliable Narrator, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Working Out My Feelings Through Fic, Writing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-05
Updated: 2017-03-12
Packaged: 2018-09-28 12:40:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 5,472
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10101179
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skyepilot/pseuds/Skyepilot
Summary: S4 fic, Daisy and Coulson navigate their relationship through the fallout of the Framework.  Just somewhere to collect different thoughts/ideas I'm working through.





	1. Begin Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daisy reconsiders her relationship with Coulson in light of the Framework.

She keeps telling herself that it wasn't ever real.

Just a simulation.

Inside the Framework, it wasn't real, either. Even less than real, because they were forced into it.

She's still angry about that, she knows.  Her whole life has been about fighting to be seen as herself, and not something that other people have tried to make her.

It feels good to hit the bag right now, she feels more awake than she ever has.

They had to fight to make him remember himself. Training him to be a SHIELD agent, instead of a history teacher. The inversion of the way that they had met.

That muscle memory inside of her of everything that she had put into SHIELD, how much she had committed herself to the cause and put other things in second place.

And it worked. It set him on the right path.

After a solid punch, she hugs the bag against her, and stills it so she can concentrate.

In a lot of ways she feels closer to him than she ever has.

Even though the intention was to erase who they are, and upload them into some kind of personal hell that would keep them from ever escaping. And to put all of humanity in there with them to be carefully controlled like rats in a maze.

She was going to be the last Inhuman.  They wanted to use her to kill her people, and then make her forget she was ever on their side.

Now she kicks out and brings her knee up against the dead weight of the bag, doing a combination of moves, and she feels her heart rate start to climb.

Using their memories of what had brought them together as the genesis of it all. Keeping the only people who would know the way the world used to be subdued and programmed to believe this is the way history happened.

A world where they had never met, and were meeting again for the first time.

A world where HYDRA won.

She grits her teeth and grunts then pushes back against the bag as it swings away from her and she steps to the side, resting for a moment.

The thought of everything going the way Aida had intended -scanning her, burying all her experiences and then hiding her in a lie- seems like even more of a horror than the horror show she had experienced.

So she is grateful, and careful to remind herself of how close they came to losing all of it. That they weren't all erased.

Her eyes rise and she looks at the open floor of the gym, at the red mats that are empty right now, too early for anyone else except her and May.

Still, there are times that she looks at him, and sees him looking at her. At least, a traitorous part of her wants to believe that.

Where she wonders - What If?

She doesn't dare try to provoke him about how things might go differently in real life. She could never treat any of this as some kind of joke.

They don't talk about it at all, which in a way is a comfort, because it's business-as-usual and real life starts to feel familiar again.

The routine, mundane stuff, is what she finds comfort in. Organizing missions. Guiding the Welcome Wagon for Inhumans. Getting up early to train the way she's disciplined herself to.

Avoiding the new shrink they've hired to help them all work through this.

She circles the bag thinking how she wants to come at it next when she looks up and sees him standing there, watching.

When she stares back, he looks a little wrong-footed, and shifts his weight, takes his eyes from studying her and she thinks she must look a mess, sweaty and the tension showing in her shoulders.

While she tries to shake it out of her, there's a part that wants to just ask him why he wants to pry behind this careful wall they've constructed.

Perhaps it's fear, even, that if they stare at it too long, something will fall apart.  That this is only more programming.

Instead, she just moves closer to him, so that it draws his eyes back up to her face, and she pushes the sticky strands of hair back from her cheek.

He's wearing his workout clothes, very much like he was in the simulation when they sparred.

"I've thought a lot about this, and you had me at an unfair advantage," he starts off, taking a few steps up to her. "I was a high school teacher, and you were a secret agent."

She puts on a nice smile, and swallows. Tries to not think about how he looked pushing his glasses up his nose before she took the gun right out of his hand and trained it on him.

"You were never really a high school teacher," she replies, and sees him start to get unsure and a little cagey.  Like his real self, and not the man in the Framework whose face didn't hide anything.

"I was holding back," he admits, his voice part challenge, part confession. "Before. In the simulation."

That doesn't really sound right, though. It sounds more like he's trying to convince himself of it.

Maybe it's that he's just as confused at this point about what this is supposed to look like, now that they're back in the real world.

The mask she's wearing starts to slip, and she knows he can see her, because his eyes start to soften and it's like the whole room breathes with him.

She loves him. He's so important to her that it can be wielded like a weapon against her and has been.

That giving up on it, though, doesn't make either one of them stronger for it.

The opposite, in fact.

And knowing that is what pushes her forward now.

"You want to go again?" she asks, lifting an eyebrow at him.  Provoking.  She gives him a light tap against his shoulder that throws him off balance a little.

"Yeah." He gives her a smirk, cocky amusement and relief all at once. "And...no holding back."

She raises her fists in front of her, to hide the flush of her cheeks at the possibility of what that might actually mean.

The air in the room feels like it's tingling across her skin now.

And she forgets about what ifs.


	2. Bang

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daisy meets Mr. Coulson in the Framework.

"Put it down, Phil. You don't want to shoot me."

He might, though. She can't say otherwise with any certainty.  It's only a feeling.

Her hand is stretched out towards him, wanting to reason with him rather than it having to come to this.  Not because she thinks he stands a chance.

She doesn't want to hurt him any more than he already has been.

When he pushes up the pair of glasses sliding down his nose, she can't help but think he looks so vulnerable right now.  

Alone, and trapped, with the specter of death looming.  The HYDRA symbol on her jacket confirming all of his fears.

Emotions naked on his face.  It almost drives her to distraction.  If only that were the real reason she was here.

She shifts her focus then and leaps forward, turning her back to his chest and pointing the gun away from her as it fires into the empty classroom before she strips it out of his hand.

Very brave, and still struggling, but surprisingly desperate for the man she has always known.  She has to believe he's still in there.  That he hasn't been erased.

She twists again, this time around him to get his arm behind his back in a lock.

"What now? Are you going to use your powers on me?" he asks as she pushes him up against the chalkboard.

"Is that what they do here?" she asks, leaning against him to talk in his ear. "Scare you into submission?"

It confuses him, how angry she sounds about it. Enough to still him, but not quite enough to quiet him.  

"Don't act like you don't know!" He shouts, more angry than afraid now. "You know everything about me."

His breathing changes, like he's resigned to this now, so she lets him go, and shoves away, putting distance between them as he rights himself again and faces her.

"What are you-"

He almost looks more afraid than he did before.  The idea that this is so unexpected, it has to be something worse.

"If you want to keep me from taking this from you," she says dryly, handing the butt of the gun out at him. "You're going to need to practice."

"Practice?" he asks, almost offended as his eyes narrow.

"Like you said, I know everything about you, Phil Coulson," she replies, cocky.

And she does know about him, from his HYDRA file. That he asks a lot of questions, that his feelings about Inhumans are very...personal.

That's how she knows that none of this is simply unintended consequences that spun history in a different direction.  It's deliberately planned, designed to keep them apart.

"I-I don't know anything about you," he stammers, swallowing, staring down at the gun in her hand.

"I'm Inhuman, so you'll have to get over that." She wrinkles her nose at him when he glances up at her sharply, starts to openly look her up and down.

"I've never seen one," he tells her, his hard stare turned curious. "Up close."

There's a flutter of hope that he's already more like her Coulson than she thought.  Even though the brown tweed jacket really doesn't suit him.

He used to always wear blue, she thinks, staring into his eyes.

"What do you want to know?" She puts her gun down on his desk, and crosses her arms in front of her.

She's here to teach him, it seems.

"I want to know the truth," he replies a moment later, putting his hand on the desk, circling it to get to her.

"Something we have in common."

She gives him a weary smile, as he tentatively reaches for her gun. Again.

"And don't pull the trigger this time," she chides him.

"Do you want me to say _bang_?" he huffs back at her.

"Yes," she smiles enigmatically. "Actually, I do."

He tilts his head at her, as thought he's being toyed with, and she puts her hand on his shooting arm, lowering it between them.

"But not here," she mentions, motioning her head towards the door. "We've already made enough noise."

"Where?" he asks, as though she's somehow offering him something scandalous.  He adjusts the glasses on the bridge of his nose again.

"You'll just have to trust me," she sighs.

"Do I have a choice?"  He hands her the gun as she holsters it on her leg, beneath the hem of her skirt, then he follows her out towards the classroom door.

"Are you forgetting something?" she tells him, looking back behind him at the desk.

"I'm trying not to forget anything," he says drolly, and she wonders if he's starting to enjoy the excitement of this a bit.

"Your papers." She tilts her head at him. "You stayed late to grade papers, remember?"

He goes back to his desk and starts to gather the files, remembering to put them in his briefcase as she watches at the door.

"I asked for a teaching assistant, not a secret agent," he reminds her with a glance, and then he reports back to her at the door.

"I came here for an agent, and all I got was a history teacher instead," she smirks, reaching to tug at the knot of his tie.

"I'm not a spy," he tells her, swallowing, the lenses of the glasses making his wide eyes look even larger.

"No, but you will be."

The corner of his mouth pulls up a little at the prospect.

Then she leads him out carefully with her into the empty hallway.


	3. Complicated

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daisy tries to work through her complicated feelings for Couslon.

"You're avoiding that word."

"What?" she asks with a shrug.

"Coulson."

It's a loaded word, what can she say?

That they almost lost each other again, and it seems as though things have evolved again, through no fault of their own?

Things were settling in nicely too, after she returned to SHIELD.

They had put the past behind them and were moving forward.

"Agent Johnson."

She blinks and then looks out the window of the Director's office. Away from the computer screen where the team evaluator is watching.

Not that she'd run towards paranoia, but after them all being a little out of touch with reality....

It makes her think about Andrew. How much she's missed talking to him.

Instead of this stranger, and oversight committees, outsiders looking in, who have no idea at all of what they've been through.

"It's complicated."

"You both share this GH-325. Does that make you feel close to him?"

"Yes," she nods, lowering her head between her shoulders. "Of course it does. He saved my life with it."

"Dr. Simmons has studied it." She can hear them flipping through the notes, and it reminds her of being a child, the shrinks talking at her instead of to her. "But the evidence was somewhat inconclusive."

"Coulson is one of the best men that I've ever known," she replies. "That doesn't require an alien drug the last I checked."

"You followed the sound of his voice. Is that true or not?"

Thanks, Simmons, she thinks, rolling her eyes. Yes, that is what she told her later when she gave her the medical eval. And it's true. The others were out of the Framework, and she still remained inside. She knew long before that it was always a possibility.

She came into the Framework for him, but he's the one who got her back out.

"I'd do the same for him," she answers, running her hand along the back of her neck. "I have. We don't leave people behind."

"But someone was left behind."

She looks at the time left on the clock for the session, and goes quiet, waiting it out.

When it's finished, she closes the laptop, and puts her head down on the desk, and shuts her eyes for a moment, hoping that she doesn't see anything behind them.

"Daisy, wake up."

It's the whisper of his voice, and she feels a touch on her shoulder, bolts upright in the chair.

But she's alone in the office.

She presses the heel of her hand against her forehead, wanting the memories to fade.

It wasn't real.

Even though she feels like she knows him even more than she did before, it wasn't real.

The way that he looks at her is now hidden behind the carefully constructed wall between them, and she starts to wonder when they made that agreement.

Was it when she decided to join SHIELD, or when she decided that her being Inhuman put him too much at risk? She even left to figure things out only to find a part of her stayed behind.

Now she is stuck with knowing.

There's a faint knock and she looks up to see him standing in the threshold, like he needs permission to enter.

"Sorry to interrupt," he tells her, walking to the desk when she motions. "I was a little behind on my ops report, but it's ready now."

She takes the tablet from him as he hands it to her, and looks down at it for a moment, reads the first line, then glances back up at him.

All she wants to know is if this is what they're supposed to be now.

"Thank you," she says, instead.

He sighs, a tiny little nothing of a sigh, and stands there for a moment longer, and she wonders if she's made him feel uncomfortable, if he can see past the mask she's wearing.

"It's the least I can do," he says, and it sounds like an apology. Heavier than the words themselves would imply.

"You never told me that being Director was this much fun," she jokes to lighten the mood.

He smiles down at her sympathetically.

"If you ever need someone to talk it over with," he starts.

"I know," she waves him off. He's not responsible for her.

"I have Fury's number."

She stares up at him when he finishes, not really impressed by his false modesty.

"He doesn't always answer, though," he adds, touching the end of the desk, then raising his eyebrows. "So, you're probably stuck with me."

"I'll take my chances," she replies, sitting back in the chair.

He taps his finger on the desk a few times and then looks like he might say something more, but thinks better of it.

When he nods at her then turns to go, she stands and almost follows until Mack breezes into the door.

"It looks like the Watchdogs are selling off their weapons," he tells them. "To the highest bidders. Do you want to take a guess?"

He looks between the two of them, as they look at each other.

"No?" he pauses for a moment, then continues. "Elena's managed to track them to a warehouse in Boise."

"You have a conference call with the President in 30 minutes," Coulson reminds her, apologetically.

"Then, I know who to send," she smiles at him.


	4. Phil

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There were parts of the Framework she wanted.

"C'mon," he tells her, pulling the t-shirt off over his head. "Admit it."

"Admit what?" she teases, as he gives her a petulant sigh.

"You did alright," she calls back, glancing over her shoulder at him with his back to her, the line of the scar marking his back.

Down his back to his narrow waist and right where it dips to his-

He definitely held his own. They barely had a chance to get up close and personal, it felt more like they were sizing each other up.

In a different sort of way than before, in case her staring at his assets isn't making it pretty obvious.

"You have powers, I have my prosthetic," he adds, wiggling into the fresh t-shirt and turning away from the lockers back to her.

"I was holding back," she laughs provocatively, stretching into the sweatshirt as he walks to her, lets his eyes follow as her bare shoulder slips free of it.

"Holding back your _powers_ ," he clarifies, leaning against the lockers beside her, throwing in a smirk as she finishes drying her damp hair with a towel.

She pushes it up against his chest, while he scrutinizes her, and his hand covers hers for a moment, stopping it there. She waits and then tries to draw it back.

He takes hold of her arm and turns her around until she's against him, inside his arms, her back to his chest.

"I couldn't get close enough before," he says with a smile as she tests his grip.

"Showing off?" she asks, feeling the hairs on her neck stand on end when his breath teases against it.

"I had a really great teacher," he says, lowering his voice.

She drops her weight and manages to get free, slipping underneath his arms then grabbing him by the wrists as she twists and pushes him up against the lockers.

Someone might have heard that. She shrugs it off. It's still early enough in the day that they might be alone.

His eyes look darker than usual, and she would know. She spent a lot of time searching them in the Framework.

It feels like this is his way of telling her, that maybe it wasn't so unreal.

"What do you have to say for yourself?" she half demands, pushing his arms higher, bringing their bodies closer together. She feels him tense then surge against her, and she knows this is more than circling each other on the mats.

These are them pushing at their walls together. Testing their limits.

He bites at his bottom lip, like he's trying to decide what to do and then his eyes lock on hers.

" _Bang_."

Her hands release his and he's kissing her, even though she planned on kissing him first, but this is better: him drawing her to him by the hips, as she slips her thumbs along his jaw, into the hollow of his cheeks, as his tongue impatiently pushes inside her mouth.

It doesn't feel like the first time that they've kissed, it feels like a kiss from a lover that's long overdue.

She's thought of so many reasons to kiss him.

" _Phil_."

When she checks him with her hips, he groans and it sends a tingling all the way down her spine, while he presses his mouth to hers softly and pauses for a moment, licking at his lips when his hand moves under her sweatshirt and skin contacts skin.

His fingers brush along her stomach reverently, and he looks down at his hand and back up at her like he wants to be sure he's not imagining it.

"Are we doing this backwards?" she asks him, settling her arm around his shoulder comfortably.

"I don't know," he says, taking away his hand and slipping his fingers against her cheek instead. "Only that I remember _everything_."

"I wasn't sure," she says, relieved, closing her eyes as he tugs her into his arms again, and wraps her into a hug.

 _Phil_. He fits against her. Perfectly.

"You used your powers earlier," he tells her, thinking out loud. "Are you hungry?"

She remembers him making breakfast for her in the Framework, that first morning when she had saved his life and they had barely escaped.

When she knew that he trusted her, and the idea that maybe it was something....more.

He drove all night to the house where he had grown up. Pictures on the walls of his parents, how she had wished she could've stayed there longer.

Even though it wasn't real, she couldn't escape the idea that it was. That for all the awful things in the Framework, there were parts of it she wanted.

"Crepes?" she asks him hopefully.

"I've mastered the crepe in _every_ reality," he mentions, pulling back.

Then he presses a kiss to her cheek.


	5. Blue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Coulson saves Daisy in the Framework.

There are moments of clarity.

Moving in and out of reality.

She hears voices. They sound like Simmons, and then Elena, arguing about what to do.

"Not yet!" she tries to yell.

Like she's outside of her body, and then back in it. Somewhere...in between.

Is she inside the Framework, or outside of it?

Then the flashes of a yellow light behind her eyelids, like an intersection blinking in a small town.

It makes her think of travelling, of being taken by the nuns to another house, in another out-of-the-way place.

The corners of her vision go dark again.

The warning that if she dies here, she dies out there as well.

Where do you go, if you die in the Framework?

Where do you go anyway?

The sound of the crunch of gravel and she's being lifted. The slam of a door.

Then it's darkness.

Maybe that's all there is. Forever.

"Daisy, can you hear me?"

Is it a trick? They say that when you die, your mind does funny things, you always think about how it sounds like a cliché.

"Daisy, I need you. Come back."

A memory. Of her bent over him, her hands on his, telling him to come back.

And she thinks, if she just follows the sound of his voice, she will end up where she needs to be.

Is that what faith is?

"Coulson?"

Her eyes open, and he's leaning over her, his glasses fogged up from something, and he looks upset. Messy, the way he never usually looks.

Then he smiles at her, relieved, and chokes out a small noise, and his fingers clutch hers, she can feel them.

"Where am I?" she groans, as the pain begins to register as well.

"At my parents' house," he tells her quietly, and then sits back a little, adjusts his glasses.

"I mean, in the Framework, or-"

She's disoriented, and tries to sit up as he puts a hand on her arm to help her.

"Yes," he tells her, shaking his head, like he's the one who is confused, instead of her.

"I'm sorry," she groans, looking down at her side. "I just wasn't sure."

"I believe you," he mentions, and draws her hand away and then looks at the dressing on the wound there. "You were somewhere else for a moment."

Now she looks at him like he's confused. That's new. Him siding with her on this after all.

"Not that I sound like a raving, ranting-" she starts.

"No," he cuts her off from repeating his own words to her from days ago back to him. "You were talking to them, and-"

He gets a far away look in his eyes, they widen as he stares like there is something else in the room with them.

"What?"

"Blue. This very...blue.... They said to tell me." He says it almost like he's dreaming, that he's not completely here.

The room they're in is almost a shade of blue, but she can see it's only the curtains and the morning light penetrating them.

"Have I been here before?" he asks her, his voice sounding a little shaken.

She avoids his gaze and looks around them. It's a small room, filled with things from another time. Her eyes fall on the Captain America poster on the wall.

"Is this your room?" she asks carefully, after adding it all up.

"Yeah," he answers, and then stands, his voice turning stern. "You didn't answer my question, though."

Coulson always has a lot of questions. And this Coulson is very impatient for answers, but she takes the time to examine what his childhood room looks like, because she might not get the chance again.

"Who's responsible for this?" she asks him after, looking down again at the dressing on her wound.

"I know you said that I can't trust anyone here," he starts, nervous-sounding and moving back-and-forth. She notices the blood on his shirt.

"Are you hurt?!" She tries to move again and the sharp pain makes her wince.

"No," he tells her, annoyed, and walks to her again, so she'll stop moving. "Look, I got a vet. I'm sorry, that doesn't mean anything. Just someone that I trust."

Of course she immediately thinks about her father. But that's...not possible here.

He sighs and sits down next to her, carefully on the edge of the twin bed. Barely fitting himself on it.

"Why do you keep calling me Coulson?"

"Because that's your name," she tells him wearily, with a tired smirk.

"It's deeply impersonal, and, I'm offended."

His tone of voice is distractingly playful, and she's trying to get used to this version of Coul-Phil, being more open than her-

"I did save you from HYDRA," she reminds him, shutting out those thoughts, leaning back against the pillows doubled up beneath her.

"I'm making you breakfast," he tells her, in a very sweet voice, like a lure. "And then, you're telling me everything."

"Why should I?" she asks him, leaning towards him, as he gets up and moves towards the door.

"You came all this way to save me," he tells her, spinning back around. "And, you obviously wanted to see my room."

She rolls her eyes as he pushes the glasses back up his face, seeming way too cocky.

"I see," she tells him, looking down at her fingers playing with the edge of his blanket. It's well-worn, and all of this is too real.

"I have absolutely mastered crepes, and your spy skills will not save you this time."

"Thank you," she calls after him, just as he's almost out of sight.

And he smiles back, and then moves slowly, like it takes everything in him to walk away.


	6. What If?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Coulson decides to write about it.

_Rose looked at herself in the mirror and wondered if it was all ordained._

_Her large brown eyes held secrets, and had seen too much already given her number of years._

_What if they were part of a plan?_

_She called down James from the stairs and they remembered, together._

_A part of some huge, cosmic game that they couldn't escape and didn't agree to play._

_He made breakfast. She watched and tempted him with her laughter._

_They knew that something had put them together. The way that they fit._

_And having arrived, at this moment, together._

_That made all the difference._

 

"That sounds like a romance novel."

"I'm sorry, I'm a romantic person. You can help me edit it. Add in all the gross and terrible parts."

She laughs, and it's the same laugh that makes him feel lighter and lighter.

They did do everything backwards. But he wouldn't change any of it.

Okay, maybe the gross and horrible parts. He wouldn't trade it for another version, anyway.

"You do love books," she sighs, like she's daydreaming. "We should go all the places in your book."

"I also love... _other_ things..."

He looks at her legs stretched out across his bed, one wrapped around his shin, warm on his skin, wiggling toes tickling at his hairs.

"We've been all the places in my book," he tells her, putting the tablet aside on the nightstand. The book is about them.

"I've never been to Paris," she replies, drawing a very intense stare along his face, then deciding to turn it towards her with her hand.

She presses her lips to his mouth and he forgets for a moment that they're here. On the base.

He imagines that they're in Paris, in an apartment, and he's just made her breakfast.

That this is what happens after.

He shifts and starts to undresses her as best he can with one hand, but the workout clothes are tough. She does the rest of it to speed things up.

Daisy has already been up for hours and brought him a coffee to wake him.

Lounged around a bit with him in bed, not because she doesn't have better things to do, being the Director and all.

It's just because she likes him, and, he likes her.

He likes her _so much_.

She slips his boxers down his hips and it doesn't make him nervous anymore, her appraising his body, scars and all.

He pushes up into her hand, warm and soft around his cock, and she leans over and kisses him again, connecting.

If this could be every morning, if she could stay the night and wake up with him?

Like that one day in the Framework. Alone together in his parents' house. Without the horrible part of her being injured on his behalf.

His hand slips down her body, between her thighs and he wishes they had more time. That he could just give her _more_.

Daisy is used to doing everything quietly and quickly, though. It would be nice to slow things down, if she wanted.

And even though it's fast, she still gives him a grateful smile, as though he's done something extra nice for her.

She really has no idea.

"Paris," he groans out, as she fits him into place and he raises his hips up towards her, as she lowers down onto him.

"Yeah?" She pushes her hands against his shoulders to ground herself and then starts to move over him.

"Alone," he tells her, wanting this to not be over. "Just the two of us."

"And Lola," she says, pausing for a moment, and he knows that she's thinking about the Framework again.

"And Lola," he promises, sweeping his hand across her nape and then pulling her down to him again to kiss her silly.

She smiles against his mouth, and lets him set a rhythm from underneath her, holding her against him with his hand.

Then she's there with him, away from this place for just a moment.

It's just the two of them, making as much love as they can for now, and it's still more than enough.

She has her teeth around his bottom lip afterwards, and she slowly lets it go, then kisses him again and moves to stand off the bed.

"It would be nice to take things slower for once?" she calls back to him over her shoulder.

"Mmm," he says in agreement, smiles, still sensitive and tingling all over, and flips on his stomach to curl up against the pillow.

Her fingers skim along his body, across his shoulder and down his back, over his butt.

"I can get some glasses, if you want," he teases at her in a soft voice, watching as she bends to pick up her clothing off the floor.

She smacks his butt with the flat of her hand, laughing.

"Bang."


End file.
